


I'll Be Your Valentino

by KiaraMGrey



Series: Good Omens Meet-Cutes [6]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Human, Eventual Smut, First Meetings, Flirting, Flirting through food, Fluff, Immediate Attraction, M/M, Meet-Cute, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Patron Aziraphale, Waiter Crowley
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:47:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29191779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiaraMGrey/pseuds/KiaraMGrey
Summary: “Good evening sir, may I start you off with something to… drink?”Crowley breathed out the last word, his eyes going wide and his smile only remaining in place by virtue of practice. The man that looked up at him was stunning. He looked to be at least a decade older than Crowley, but that didn’t stop him from being drop dead gorgeous. White-blonde curls sat over what could only be described as the face of an angel. And as blue eyes met his, he thought he noticed them widening the slightest amount. Pink, plump lips fell open a bit.“Oh,” angel eyes said, “Hello. You’re new.”orCrowley is just trying to get through his first shift at his new job at the Ritz. He's expecting rude, prissy customers, and his coworkers are doing nothing to dispel that belief. But when he gets sat with the normally uptight and particular Mr. Fell and receives nothing but sweet smiles and gentle words, his night starts to look decidedly up.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Good Omens Meet-Cutes [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2128290
Comments: 38
Kudos: 235
Collections: Good Omens Human AUs





	I'll Be Your Valentino

**Author's Note:**

> I will preface this by saying that I was only a server for a short time about eight years ago for my first job, and we'll just say I wasn't good at it. Luckily this is fiction!

“Are you ready for your first night on the floor?”

Crowley looked up at the American girl beside him. They wore matching uniforms of black trousers, white long-sleeve button up shirts, and black aprons. He gave her a shrug.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be? I’ve been a waiter before.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, but not at the Ritz. They have a standard here that you need to meet if you want to keep your job. The guests expect a certain level of service.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “I get it. A bunch of snooty, rich arseholes. Nothing I can’t handle. I completed the training and Tracy said I was ready. I’ll be fine.”

The American, Anathema he thought she had said, just smirked at him. “If you say so. I’ll try to give you the easy tables for tonight.”

Something about the way she said it made him think she actually meant the exact opposite of what she said. Whatever, he could handle anything they threw at him. These people thought they knew how to handle difficult customers, but they had never worked in a chip shop directly across from a rowdy pub in the rough part of the city. These bejeweled snobs were nothing. Tracy, the lead server, entered the kitchen then with a cheery grin.

“Right! Team meeting everyone, gather round.”

All of the servers came to stand in line in front of her. There was Anathema, with her dark hair tied back into a stylish braid, then a young man named Newt who had a perpetual state of nervousness about him. Crowley thought they both seemed nice enough. Beside them were a duo who Crowley wished he hadn’t met, Hastur and Ligur. They both seemed rather rude and conniving. On Crowley’s other side were a foursome who had introduced themselves as the Them, which wasn’t weird at all. Wensleydale and Brian seemed like they might be in a relationship, but then Pepper had insinuated some rather personal information about Brian, so Crowley couldn’t be sure. Adam appeared to be their leader, all charming smiles and confidence. Maybe they were polyamorous. Crowley didn’t care either way. He was here to make money.

“Alright everyone,” Tracy said brightly. “It’s Friday night and we’re planning on having a full house. We have a full booking of reservations with high priority clientele, so let’s put our best foot forward. It’s also our newest team member Crowley’s first night, so let’s be sure to make him feel welcome.”

He gave the group a tight-lipped smile. Adam gave him an encouraging pat on the back and Anathema smirked at him, while Hastur and Ligur leered menacingly. He wasn’t afraid of them. He couldn’t count the number of times he had been threatened with a knife at his last job.

The dining room opened for dinner service shortly after and Crowley lost himself in the hustle and bustle of work. The tables he was given weren’t as bad as he’d been fearing. Some of the patrons were a bit uppity, but for the most part didn’t cause him too many problems so long as he provided the top-quality service they were expecting. And Crowley was excellent at putting on a charming smile and pretending like serving these arseholes was the peak of his desires. It was at an hour and a half into the shift that he walked into the kitchen and found Hastur and Ligur mumbling to each other. Their eyes lit up when they saw him, making Crowley immediately wary.

“Hey, Crowley, you have another table,” Hastur said with a grin.

He frowned as he wiped his hands on a cloth. “Where?”

Ligur moved to the door of the kitchen and pointed to a man who had just been sat. Crowley could only see his back from here, but what he could make out were white curls and a cream-colored jacket over broad shoulders. He scowled.

“He’s in your section, Ligur.”

Ligur smirked. “Yeah, but Tracy said we could give you the easy table’s if we wanted. What, you don’t think you can handle him?”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Fuck off. Fine, if you two can’t do your jobs, I’ll do it for you.”

Crowley straightened his apron and stepped out of the kitchen. He was sure this was some sort of prank those two were trying to pull on him, he just wasn’t entirely sure what the joke was. Maybe this guy was an absolute monster, and he was about to be screamed at. Whatever, not something he hadn’t dealt with before. He plastered on his most professional smile as he stepped around the table and into the man’s view.

“Good evening sir, may I start you off with something to… drink?”

Crowley breathed out the last word, his eyes going wide and his smile only remaining in place by virtue of practice. The man that looked up at him was stunning. He looked to be at least a decade older than Crowley, but that didn’t stop him from being drop dead gorgeous. White-blonde curls sat over what could only be described as the face of an angel. And as blue eyes met his, he thought he noticed them widening the slightest amount. Pink, plump lips fell open a bit.

“Oh,” angel eyes said, “Hello. You’re new.”

It took every year of Crowley’s training to continue smiling professionally and nod. “Yes, sir. I am. This is my first night.”

Angel eyes lit up, a smile curling the corners of his lips. “How lovely! How are you enjoying it?”

“It’s a pleasure to work here.”

_Especially now that you’re here._

There was a suspicious glint to his eyes. “Really? Nobody’s given you a hard time?”

Finally, Crowley let his polite smile shift into his regular smirk. The angelic man shifted in his seat. He wasn’t _supposed_ to break professionalism, but the angel didn’t seem to mind.

“There have been a few rude customers, and a couple of my coworkers leave something to be desired.”

“Ah,” he nodded. “There are a few at every establishment. Well, I won’t make any more trouble for you my dear.”

Something electric tingled down Crowley’s spine at that gentle endearment. Blue eyes darted down to his menu and he pursed those perfect lips with a hum.

“I think I’ll do a bottle of your Chateauneuf du pape. And I’ll start with crab cake sliders.”

Crowley inclined his head and gave him another warm smile. “Of course. I’ll have that right out to you.”

Crowley turned and walked off towards the computers, where he input the order, and then went to the wine room to retrieve the bottle he had asked for. He noticed Hastur and Ligur watching from the kitchen but chose to ignore them. As he made is way back to the blonde, he saw him looking around and tapping his well-manicured hands on the table. Was he waiting for someone to join him? When he came around in front of him again, the angel lit up once more.

“Here you are, one bottle of our finest Chateauneuf du pape.”

“Oh, thank you,” he glanced at his nametag. “Thank you, Anthony.”

“Of course, it’s my pleasure.”

It really was. He poured him a healthy sized glass and then set the wine in the ice bucket on the table.

“Your crab cakes will be right out. Would you like to place your order for the main course, or do you need another minute?”

“I think I’ve made my decision. I’ll have the roast lamb over potatoes.”

Crowley nodded and smiled once more. “Fantastic choice.”

The angel raised his eyebrows. “Oh, have you tried it?”

_Shit._ He knew he was supposed to lie and say yes, he had tried it and loved it, but how could he lie to the epitome of perfection? He felt his face go warm and knew he was blushing.

“Ah, no, actually. Haven’t had the chance. We’re just supposed to say that.”

He worried that the man would be annoyed with him, but when he looked back, he saw humor dancing in his blue eyes.

“I see. Well, perhaps you will have the chance to try it soon.”

Crowley smiled, relieved. “Perhaps. I’ll just go put your order in.”

He dipped his head once more and rushed back to the computers. Why did he feel so flushed? Nothing had even happened! This wasn’t the first time a pretty man had smiled at him, so why was he losing his cool now at work of all places?

Once he placed the order, he made his way into the kitchen to find Anathema scolding Hastur and Ligur for some reason. When she saw him, a look of concern crossed her face.

“Hey, Crowley, sorry about these two. Are you ok? I’ll take over Fell’s table if you want.”

Crowley frowned. “What are you talking about? Who’s Fell?”

She motioned to the doors. “The table these two idiots tricked you into taking, the man with the blonde curls. Tracy made it clear we weren’t to give you any of the usually difficult or high priority patrons. These two didn’t want to deal with him so they pawned him off on you.”

Crowley blinked, trying to make sense of what she was saying. “Are you talking about the angelic looking man with the blue eyes?”

Anathema rolled her eyes. “Yes! Obviously. I know how difficult he can be, and since it’s your first night I’ll take him if you want.”

Crowley seriously had no clue what she was talking about. “Uh, no, it’s fine. He hasn’t been difficult at all. He’s been my best table of the night, actually.”

Her eyes narrowed in disbelief. “What? Fell is a notoriously hard customer. You’re telling me he hasn’t made you go back for a different wine eight different times or asked for a full list stating where each ingredient in every dish is from?”

He shrugged and shook his head. “Nope. He ordered the crab cakes and a wine, and he just ordered the lamb. He didn’t even ask for any substitutions.”

Anathema stared at him for a long moment before brushing past him to look back out on the dining floor. When she came back to him, she looked just as perplexed.

“I don’t understand.”

He threw up his hands. “You and me both! I don’t get what you’re going on about.”

Anathema folded her arms over her chest and tapped her foot. “Every week, Mr. Fell comes here for dinner. And every week he gives whichever poor server has him a terrible time. He makes multiple difficult requests, hogs all their time and attention, and fusses over everything. And don’t get me wrong, he makes up for it by being one of the best tippers we have. He’s loaded. But he is _not_ an easy customer. But now you’re telling me that he has been nothing but pleasant to you? He just… ordered the food as it is.”

Crowley stared at her, his mind working over what she had said. “Uh, yeah.”

She let out a huff. “What the hell?”

“Maybe it’s because I’m new?”

“No, no,” she shook her head. “We’ve had new servers take him before. It’s always the same.”

“Right. Well, I need to run those crab cakes to him.”

She waved her hand, dismissing him. Crowley carefully carried the crab cakes across the floor and set them on the table, earning another beaming smile.

“Oh, thank you! These look scrumptious.”

_Almost as scrumptious as you._

“I certainly hope they are. Why don’t you try a bite and let me know?”

Angel, _Mr. Fell,_ gave a small wiggle in his seat. What the hell. How could a grown man be so adorable? He picked up his fork and scooped up a small bite before bringing it to his mouth. Crowley held his breath as the fork slid in slowly past his lips, a few crumbs catching to the moisture there. He wanted to reach forward and brush them away, possibly with his own lips. Mr. Fell closed his eyes as he tasted the cake, a low hum rumbling up from his chest and situating itself deep inside Crowley. And then, even worse, he _moaned._ Crowley was suddenly very grateful to the apron that covered his front.

“That is positively scrummy. Have you tried these yet?”

Crowley licked his lips, trying to bring some moisture back to his dry mouth. “No, not yet.”

“Oh, my dear, you must! Here, try a bite.”

Before Crowley knew what was happening, Mr. Fell was scooping up another bite and holding it up to him. Crowley looked wide eyed from the fork back to blue eyes.

“I, uh, I can’t. Regulations and all that.”

Mr. Fell pouted. “Oh, come now, just one bite won’t hurt. If they ask you can say I forced you. I’m sure they’ll believe it.”

After what Anathema had said, he didn’t doubt that. Crowley glanced from the fork to his face, and then bent at the waist to take the bite. He saw Mr. Fell’s eyes go wide and at this range could feel the huff of breath as it left his perfect lips. It wasn’t until he straightened up that he realized Mr. Fell must have meant for him to take the fork in his hand, not allow himself to be fed. He flushed and swallowed.

“Well,” Mr. Fell breathed, “How is it?”

“It’s delicious.”

Mr. Fell nodded, a slight smile curling his lips. “Indeed.”

Crowley cleared his throat. “Right. Well, enjoy. I’ll be by if you need anything else.”

He swept away from the table, studiously avoiding looking back at him. Crowley did his best to attend the rest of his tables, and he thought he was doing a fairly good job. Every once in awhile he would look up and catch those blue eyes watching him. God, he had made such a fool of himself. Who allows themselves to be spoon fed by a customer? Crowley, apparently.

When he brought out the lamb, he did his best to put on an air of absolute professionality.

“Here you are sir, the roast lamb over potatoes. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Mr. Fell’s eyes darted up to him and lingered for a moment before he smiled. “No, my dear. Everything looks scrumptious.”

Crowley smiled. “Good. I’ll be back to check in.”

He walked away and stopped beside the bussing station to watch as Mr. Fell cut into his lamb and brought it to his lips. Blonde lashes fluttered down as he closed his lips around the fork, and Crowley could just image the sound he was making. It was obscene. Crowley wondered what else he could do to have him make that noise. He was sure there were many ways in which he could service him. Crowley shook his head, trying to put a stop to that train of thought. He _would_ remain professional.

When Crowley eventually made his way back to his table to ask how the food was, Mr. Fell offered him a charming smile and only praise for the dish. Crowley would be lying if he said he didn’t preen under it, his chest swelling for something he hadn’t even done. It wasn’t like _he_ made the food. But the way Mr. Fell went on about it, it seemed he had forgotten that fact as well.

When it was finally time to bring the cheque, Crowley did so with reluctance. Having the gorgeous blonde in his midst had done wonders for his morale on his first night, and he knew that with him gone the rest of the night would drag. But there was nothing for it, so he laid the leather book containing the cheque beside his elbow.

“No rush.”

He smiled up at him. “Oh, thank you.”

“Is there anything else I can get for you, Mr. Fell?”

“No, not at the moment. Although, I would like for you to call me Aziraphale.”

Something warm and electric crept up Crowley’s spine. Aziraphale. A unique yet fitting name for the beauty at table thirteen. His face split into a smile without his permission.

“Very well. Then I’d like for you to call me Crowley.”

Aziraphale looked surprised and a little flushed but nodded. “Oh, alright. Thank you, Crowley.”

“Of course, Aziraphale.”

He turned without waiting for a response and ran to hide in the kitchen. That had felt terrifyingly personal and he was still reeling a bit. Adam saw his expression and stopped what he was doing to place a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, you ok Crowley?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, I’m fine.”

Adam raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “You sure? You look a bit dazed.”

Crowley straightened up and shook himself a bit. “Yeah, sorry. It’s just, Mr. Fell…”

“Ah,” Adam nodded knowingly. “Yeah, he can be a bit much sometimes. Pepper almost strangled him with her apron one time.”

He snorted and shook his head. “No, he didn’t do anything wrong. He’s… nice. Real nice.”

Now both of Adams eyebrows were at his hairline. “Nice, huh? Crowley, do you have a crush on Mr. Fell?”

“What?” he cried, recoiling from the touch on his shoulder. “No, don’t be ridiculous. He’s a patron and I just met him.”

Both of those statements were true, yet it didn’t stop his heart from beating fast at the thought of how Aziraphale had said his name. Or how he had smiled at him so gently. Shit.

Adam raised his hands in surrender. “Sorry. Just making an observation.”

“Yeah, well, don’t,” he grumbled.

When he made his way back onto the dining room floor, he was saddened to see Aziraphale had already gone. He had been hoping he would pay with a card and he would have another chance to talk to him, but it seemed Aziraphale hadn’t felt the same need to linger. Crowley collected the cheque and opened it as he made his way back to the register, only to stop when he saw the amount of money inside. He quickly counted through it. Aziraphale had left a one hundred percent tip on a three-hundred-pound bill. Anathema had said he was a good tipper, but damn. He must have still looked struck by the time he made his way into the kitchen again, because Anathema noticed immediately.

“What is it?”

“You weren’t kidding about Aziraphale being a good tipper. He just left me a three-hundred-pound tip.”

She frowned. “Aziraphale?”

“Oh, yeah, Mr. Fell.”

Her eyes went wide. “Wait, you’re on first name basis with Mr. Fell? And Jesus, he’s never tipped like _that_ before. I meant he usually leaves twenty-five to thirty percent.”

Crowley flushed. “Oh.”

Anathema was quiet for a moment, and then she burst into laughter just as Tracy made her way into the kitchen.

“What’s so funny love?”

Anathema pointed to Crowley, who tried to swat her hand away.

“Tracy,” Anathema wheezed. “It turns out that all this time, the key to making Mr. Fell happy was to send over our hottest piece of ass to serve him. Go on Crowley, tell her.”

Tracy turned wide eyes on Crowley, and he let out an annoyed huff. He retold his experience with Mr. Fell, and by the time he finished, Tracy was smiling as well.

“My, if I had known a handsome ginger would solve our Mr. Fell problem, I would have done it sooner.”

Crowley groaned and rolled his eyes. “Would you two stop? It’s nothing like that! He was probably just in a good mood tonight.”

“Yeah,” Anathema snorted. “And I’m sure that has nothing to do with sharp cheekbones and dreamy golden eyes.”

Crowley’s stomach fluttered. Could that be true? Was Aziraphale really attracted to him? He hoped so, but it was far too soon to tell. Besides, he couldn’t just throw himself at paying customers. Well, he couldn’t throw himself at non-paying customers either, but that was beside the point. Aziraphale was gorgeous and distinguished and obviously very wealthy. He probably had a whole line of eligible men scraping at his door. What did he need with some late-twenties waiter? No. It was best to put any stupid hopes like that out of his mind and just focus on the work.

And so he did. Or at least, he tried. Every evening for the rest of the week he arrived right on time and did his job with a smile on his face. And every evening he kept an eye out for blonde curls and blue eyes. They never came. And it was fine. Completely fine. Just because he couldn’t stop thinking about him, it didn’t mean he had taken up even a corner of Aziraphale’s mind. He had just been his waiter for someone’s sake! There hadn’t even been any meaningful conversations. Just pure, raw attraction. He had to get ahold of himself.

So that next Friday, an hour into his shift, he wasn’t thinking anything of it when Adam approached him with a sly smile.

“Hey, Crowley, you got requested by name in your section.”

He raised an eyebrow. A request by name? That was a first. “Uh, ok. Which table?”

“Ten.”

He nodded and finished drying his hands. “Alright, thanks for letting me know.”

Adam was still looking at him with that knowing grin. “Yep, no problem.”

Crowley shook his head as he walked away. Weird bloke. Crowley pushed through the kitchen door and looked towards table ten, only to stop in his tracks. It was him. Aziraphale was back, sitting primly in his chair and looking over the menu. And according to Adam, he had requested to sit in his section.

**Author's Note:**

> The next chapter will be Aziraphale's POV!


End file.
